Not Only Just, Never Only Just
by Basmathgirl
Summary: What was the problem? It was just a book, full of silly pictures, so Donna turned the page.
1. Chapter 1

**Picture prompt:** see icon for this drabble

**Disclaimer:** the only thing I own here is my angst.

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**Not Only Just**

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A book. It was just a book. A book that sat there and accused her as she opened the pages and saw the image of a man staring back out at her.

He should be wearing a brown jacket, her head told her. And his eyes had been much softer when he looked at her.

How did she know that? Where exactly had she seen him in her life?

When she fought to find the information pain seared itself across her head, forcing her to look away, to change her thoughts, to reconsider the task.

But he was waiting out there, judging her; evaluating every shallow action, willing her to be better. Those eyes told her so.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **a friend asked what would happen if Donna turned a few more pages and found an image of herself with the Doctor. Here is my reply.

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**Version 1:**

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Ignoring the pain behind her eyes that was trying to explode out and cover her face, Donna flicked on another couple of pages, hoping to avoid those accusing eyes.

What she found took her breath away. Literally. She gasped frantically before fighting off the panic that threatened to overtake her sensibilities; and she had plenty of them. Scuba diving had provided that discipline.

It couldn't be! There within the book was a photograph of her and… well, he looked like the bloke from the other page. When had such a photo been taken? How had it got into the book? This book was at least thirty if not forty years old, for goodness sake!

It had to be a hoax! It just had to! There was no other explanation for it.

Unless she had an older doppelganger version of herself drifting about somewhere? Yeah, that would explain it, and confuse things all at the same time.

The pain in her head grew to become monumental, and she fought to remain upright in her seat. All this was obviously a prank devised to get maximum laughs, and she'd bloody kill 'em for causing this much damage to her day.

She knew he'd be livid if he discovered she was going through this. Holding her head mere centimetres off her lap, the nagging thought of how she knew that once more popped into her mind.

NO!

A song filtered through her synapses, soothing away the pain as it dribbled down, absorbing the fire that had sparked across the neurons, extinguishing the internal flames.

Slowly she lifted her head and glanced at the book lying neglected on the floor. How had it got there and why was she sitting in the lounge? Squinting against the sunlight that poured into the room, she wondered if she had another migraine occurring. Wanting a painless day, she got up and headed towards the kitchen to take some medication.

She would have to let him know, she noted to herself. And then she stopped, arm mid-air as she reached into the medicine cupboard. Let who know? She shook her head.

Blimey! She'd end up stark raving mad at this rate, if she wasn't careful.

As if there was a bloke that cared that much, she mused; and swallowed her tablets.

One day, maybe, there'd be such a man. She always lived in hope.

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OR... if you fancy the angstier version

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**Version 2:**

.

Ignoring the pain behind her eyes that was trying to explode out and cover her face, Donna flicked on another couple of pages, hoping to avoid those accusing eyes.

What she found took her breath away. Literally. She gasped frantically before fighting off the panic that threatened to overtake her sensibilities; and she had plenty of them. Scuba diving had provided that discipline long ago.

It couldn't be! There within the book was a photograph of her and… well, he looked like the bloke from the other page. When had such a photo been taken? How had it got into the book? This book was at least thirty if not forty years old, for goodness sake! Nothing of any interest had happened to her back then.

It had to be a hoax! It just had to! There was no other explanation for it.

Unless she had an older doppelganger version of herself drifting about somewhere? Yeah, that would explain it, and confuse things all at the same time.

The pain in her head grew to become monumental, and she fought to remain upright in her seat. All this was obviously a prank devised to get maximum laughs, and she'd bloody kill 'em for causing this much damage to her day.

She knew he'd be livid if he discovered she was going through this. Holding her head mere centimetres off her lap, the nagging thought of how she knew that once more popped into her mind.

NO!

A song filtered through her synapses, soothing away the pain as it dribbled down, absorbing the fire that had sparked across the neurons, extinguishing the internal flames.

Slowly she lifted her head and glanced at the book lying neglected on the floor. How had it got there and why was she sitting in the lounge? Squinting against the sunlight that poured into the room, she wondered if she had another migraine occurring. Wanting a painless day, she got up and headed towards the kitchen to take some medication.

She would have to let him know, she noted to herself. And then she stopped, arm mid-air as she reached into the medicine cupboard. Let who know? She shook her head.

Blimey! She'd end up stark raving mad at this rate, if she wasn't careful.

As if there was a bloke that cared that much, she mused; and swallowed her tablets.

She started when she closed the cupboard door and found a strange man standing in her kitchen. "What the bloody hell do you want? I've got no money in the house!" she spat out at him.

"I don't need your money, but many people did and they were very grateful to receive it, Donna Noble. Or should I say Donna Temple-Noble?" he queried, smiling reassuringly all the time.

She squinted at him; her eyesight hadn't been good for a while now. "Call me what you flipping like, either will do. Who are you?"

"You know," he said confidently. "You've been expecting me."

"Now you sound like a Bond villain," she said, and gained the pained giggle she had been hoping for. "Got yourself a new face, I see. How many have you been through since I last saw you?"

"Oh, a few," he answered vaguely. "It's been a life time or two."

"And yet you still came," she said in wonder. "Didn't you have something better to do?"

He smiled sadly at the implied compliment. "I thought we could go together, like the old days, travelling through time and space."

She touched her head. "So you're dying too? I thought so. There's no one else I'd rather be with," she told him sincerely.

"The Doctor and Donna, for one last time," he added. "The best of friends."

"The very best," she agreed. "Before we go, what was that with the book?"

"Oh that?" He looked towards the room where the book lay abandoned. "It was one way to keep an eye on you, and it acted as an alarm."

"Like a wakeup call but in reverse," she surmised. Giving a small sniff, she said, "I like it."

"Onwards and upwards?" he offered.

"We can hope for the 'up' part," she joked, and willingly took his hand for the very last time.

There was a shared moment of regret for all they had missed, for all they would miss, and then they burned in a bright light that flared before it extinguished their joint life force.

Across the whole of creation many voices mourned the ending of their song; but the message stayed as powerful as always.


End file.
